Memories And Jack
by Winterhalt
Summary: Sometimes memories of the ones we have lost shape or souls in ways we never imagined.


I do not own G.I Joe , Or make money off them. This story just crept into my head while I was making supper tonight. I don't know where it came from. But I felt I had to share it.

Remembering,

Memories are a fickle thing sometimes. There you are, going about your day to day life, and they creep up on you. You turn around and BAM. They hit you like a ton of bricks.

That's how he felt, that warm summer night. Like he had been hit by a ton of bricks. Each one thrown at him, pounding him again and again.

He sat there in silent tribute. Nothing with him except the bottle of Jack, and a picture frame. And the memories in between them.

Memories assaulting him over and over again. O, memories could be a good thing. Wonderful even.

The memories, of fun times. Holidays with the family. Your first kiss. The first time you made love, the first breakup of your life. The memories of long silky blonde hair streaming in the wind, there beside you in the front seat of your first car.

You would always hold fond remembrances of those times as you went about your day to day living. Usually forget them over time. Until one day you glance at the calendar, notice the date. Then you are blindsided by emotions you thought you had long since put behind you.

Most of the time, you could deal easily with them. Knowing that the person with whom you shared the memories with, was somewhere in this world.

Living their lives separate from you.

Happy, content. Married to someone else, raising a family.

Had an awesome job.

But it was different when that person was no longer in this cold old world with you.

There was no what if's, no checking up on them in secret over the years. No seeing them happy, no seeing them at all.

All that was left was cold regrets, and bottles of Jack, and those lonely moments to sit and reflect on the life that might have been.

The memories of the last time you saw that person always weigh the heaviest on your soul. Standing there outside that bar. Angry at you for flirting with the sexy waitress that had been serving you your liquid courage all evening long.

She was so mad at you; she hit you upside your dumb head. And why shouldn't she. You had disrespected the one person who truly loved you.

Why had he done that? He could have blamed it on the booze, but that would have been a lie. It was just who he was, the "Ladies Man". He had a reputation to uphold after all. She was so beautiful, had such a promising future.

He remembered everything that made her unique, she was the head cheerleader, the homecoming queen her senior year.

had soft blue eyes.

A warm laugh, a heart of gold.

Too beautiful for a looser like him. She had cried, staring at him under the neon lights of that damn bar. Then she had reached for the bottle of Jack he had in his hand. And she, the preachers granddaughter had took a long swig. Thrusting it back into his hands. Looked at him sadly, and then walked away.

And he had let her go. Watching her walk off, he had wanted to beg her to stay. His brain screaming out to stop her, apologize, make things right.

But he had just stood there, and watched her climb into the little green Honda with her college roommates. And leave. He had watched the taillights of the car speed of, staring at them till they were nothing but indiscernible dots in the horizon.

He remembered he was still where she had left him. Sitting on the rough asphalt outside the bar thirty minutes later when the Ambulances and police cars come speeding past him. There lights blinding in the night sky, there loud sirens cancelling out all other sounds.

Someone in the parking lot asked some guys who had just pulled in, coming from the direction of the blinking lights what had happened.

"Some guy in a Semi crossed the line and plowed into a Honda, Man it's awful. There's bodies everywhere"

That's when his world turned black.

Other memories are hazy. The funeral for one. Her momma clinging to his arm as she laid her only child to rest alongside her husband's grave.

The days and weeks afterward, when he would go to call her, but would hang up the phone halfway through dialing her number. Suddenly remembering she wasn't there to call.

The year had trudged slowly by. He had enlisted. Went into the Navy of all things.

He was still the "Ladies Man". But somehow that title now rang hollow.

He was like an actor on stage, he played the part well.

But it was mostly to hide the sadness, the loneliness that lay underneath the charm, underneath the façade that was him.

So it was times like this that he wanted to be alone. No matter it had been twenty years. It might as well be two hundred. It still seemed like yesterday. Especially on this date.

He found over time, that sometimes the date would sneak past him like a thief in the night. He would look up, and it would have already passed him by. But not today.

Today he had seen the calendar in the motor pool. He had left, got a pass into town. Went to the liquor store. Coming back to base with the bottle didn't scare him. He had the room to himself tonight. Ace was on a mission. So he sat down by the small rectangle window, put the picture on the table. And drank.

Lifting a silent toast to the photo frame, he said softly

"Cheers Doll" and threw the shot back. The Bourbon burning its path down his throat, into his soul.

A lonely teardrop rolled down Hector Delgado's face.

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Please read and review. As I said it just popped into my head, so I am not sure how good it truly is. I will let you be the judge of that.


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